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A Somali Girl's Life in America

Dawah, it's the duty of every Muslim. We must spread Islam, by the word if possible, by the sword if necessary. And by any means at our disposal. My name is Aasiya Rahman and I'm a Somali gal living in the City of Minneapolis, Minnesota. I was born in the Puntland region of Somalia, but my parents, Farshad and Alina Rahman moved to the U.S. when I was real young. In many ways, the U.S. is the only home I know.

A lot of Muslim immigrants from the Horn of Africa live as though they were still back home. When faced with something vastly different from themselves, most people either run from it or embrace it. In the case of my Somali parents, they ran from it. My mother still wears the hijab, as she did all her life in Somalia. As for my father, he refuses to wear anything other than Somali cultural outfits. He runs the Sal Al Din Store in the east end of Minneapolis, which sells everything from Halal foods to Islamic clothes and other items of import to the town's growing Muslim population.

As for my mother, she works as a nurse at Abbott Northwestern Hospital in Minneapolis. I grew up caught between two worlds, the Somali culture and the American culture. I attended a high school where everyone was either Christian or Jewish. There were very few Muslims at my high school. What you probably would never guess is that I liked it that way. I get along far better with my Christian friends than the ones from my faith. Take Rashid the guy next door for example.

Rashid is Somali, born and raised in Minnesota. He's tall, curly-haired and light-skinned. What passes for pretty among folks from our culture. Rashid plays basketball for Cadmus Academy, and dates a big-booty blonde-haired white chick named Beatrice Holland. Rashid doesn't have any interest in Muslim girls, yet he's always mad when he sees me talking to a guy from another faith. I'm five-foot-nine, curvy and dark-skinned, with wide hips, thick legs and a booty. I'm not Rashid's type. I made it very clear to him that I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks. My life is my own. I have zero interest in Rashid. Somali guys don't do it for me. Never have and never will. I grew up watching my mother wait on my father hand and foot. Do I want such a relationship? Thanks but no thanks.

I graduated from Cadmus Academy in June 2011, and opted to study far away from home. Yeah, much to the chagrin of my parents, I wanted to get the hell away from Minnesota. Where did I end up? Out of all the schools in the world, I chose Carleton University, a little-known school in Ottawa, Ontario. I wanted to get as far away from Minneapolis, and my family visited Ottawa a few years back for my cousin Fatima's wedding. To my immense surprise, this delighted my parents. It was decided that I would stay with my cousin Fatima. Since we last saw each other, she divorced Rahim, the Arab dude she married all those years ago and now lives in Barrhaven, Ontario.

Fatima is in her mid-thirties, tall and plump, and works for the Canadian Government as a CRA analyst. Oh, in case you don't know, the CRA is the Canadian version of the IRS. They're the tax people. I don't know why my parents felt like dropping me in on her. I mean, we may be family but Fatima has her own life, you know? Does she ever! When she came to pick me up at the airport, there was someone with her. A short, masculine-looking white chick with blonde hair and green eyes. Jane Stewart, her 'colleague' from work. I didn't think much of it at the time, but in hindsight, all the signs were there.

My cousin Fatima, whom the family respects so much for having a University of Ottawa MBA and a job with the government, is a woman harboring a secret. You see, she's a lesbian and Jane Stewart is her lover. Wow. I did not see that one coming. Of course, I'd seen lesbians in Minnesota and elsewhere. Minnesota has a thriving LGBT population and they're really outspoken about it. I just never thought that someone I knew, a fellow Muslim and someone from my family, could be...one of those.

Fatima and I had an honest talk about it, and I assured her that I was okay with it. My cousin seemed surprised at my open-mindedness. Apparently, even Canadian Muslims believe that all of us in the Ummah are supposed to be rigid, homophobic and intolerant. Well, that's not who I am. Hell, I used to sneak out of my parents house to meet with Alexander Eisenberg, the tall, red-haired and green-eyed lad who lived a couple blocks from me. Want to hear something funny? Alexander was Jewish!

Yup, that's right. I'm a Somali Muslim gal who used to make out ( and more ) with a Jewish guy. Alexander and I continued seeing each other throughout our high school days. We went to Prom together. My parents only agreed to let me go because I told them I was going with Rashid, and Rashid's parents only let him go because they thought he was going with me. That's Somali parents for you. While in western countries, especially the United States of America, they get overprotective of us because they felt that this culture will change us. It's not who we're supposed to be, that's their reasoning. Want to know what I think? You can't tell me who to be.

When we got to the Prom, Rashid got with Beatrice and I went to dance with Alexander. Yup, we pulled a switcheroo on our uptight, conservative and ultra-religious Muslim parents. We had a lot of fun that night. It was our one and only night of love, Alexander and I. We did it in the back of his father's old red BMW. Not the most comfortable spot in the world to get our freak on, but who cares? After graduation, Alexander and I promised to keep in touch but we didn't. He ended up going to John Jay College in New York City, to pursue his dream of becoming a police officer. As for me, I opted for the Great White North.

I came to Ottawa just to run from my parents, and to experience freedom. Carleton University proved to be just what I needed. I thought any university in Canada would be lily-white, but I was wrong. I ran into a lot of Jamaicans, Haitians, Native Americans, Somalis, Arabs and Hindus there. I felt right at home. I made a lot of friends at school. Michelle Joseph, a tall Haitian gal from Montreal became my new best friend. Even though Carleton University is a diverse school, certain disciplines remain almost off-limits to minorities. There aren't a lot of Black students in the civil engineering program. Michelle and I were the only Black women in the Intro to Civil Engineering class. We bonded almost instantly.

Michelle and I joined the African Student Assembly and we met a lot of like-minded students. Michelle introduced me to her cousin, Evan Joseph. A tall, good-looking brother with light brown skin, curly black hair and light green eyes. Evan is mixed, born to a Haitian immigrant father and French Canadian mother. The guy is simply gorgeous, and I took an instant liking to him. Evan is a first-year Law student and he's not easy on the eyes. The guy is athletic, and brainy as well.

A lot of the Somali girls I met at Carleton were deeply traditional, dealing only with Somali brothers or Arab guys. Me? I don't get down like that. I LOVE and CRAVE guys from other cultures. Evan and I bumped into each other quite a few times before he worked up the nerve to ask me out. Imagine his surprise when I said yes. I'm a Somali gal, I'm supposed to be conservative, reserved and quiet. Bullshit. I do what I want, when I want. The rules of religion and culture be damned. As you can imagine, Evan was delighted when I told him that.

We began going out, and I must say, if all the guys in Montreal look like Evan, I'm seriously considering moving there...permanently. I really like him. For a cute guy, he's really friendly, and kind of sweet. A lot of good-looking guys are cocky, and full of themselves. That's what gave me a distrust of the breed. I'm happy to say that Evan is not like the others. He's unlike anyone I've ever met. The guy is passionate about his Christian faith, he prays before every meal and crosses himself whenever he's in front of a church. In my entire experience as a Muslim woman living in a Christian world, I've never seen the like of him.

Typically, Christians and Jews treat their religion as something they do on weekends or special holidays while we Muslims treat Islam as something permeating every aspect of our lives. It's not just what we do, it's who we are. Evan is the first Christian I've ever met who takes Christianity as seriously as the average devout Muslim takes Islam. I became fascinated with him, and we discussed religion and politics at great length. A lot of people, whether Muslim or Judeo-Christian, believe that their faith is the best. God has no religion, Evan told me confidently. I smiled and nodded, for I couldn't argue with that.

Yeah, I'm learning a lot of new things while in Ottawa. What it means to be a young woman, to be Muslim, to be in love. Yes, I think I'm falling in love with Evan. So what if he's Christian? I don't care. He's never tried to force his religion on me. Besides, I like the way I feel when I'm with him. Like I can do anything. I feel free and happy. I've never felt like this before. Not even when I was with Alexander Eisenberg. Al wanted me to ditch Islam to be with him. I couldn't do that. I'm not the most religious person in the world, I'm definitely not. I don't wear the hijab. I like to go out wearing regular clothes, including miniskirts. I like to show a little leg from time to time, as they say.

Every woman has the right to own her sensuality, and her body, and I am no different. Muslim women are no different from women of other faiths. We're not an alien species. People from other faiths sometimes tend to forget that. Evan treats me like a normal woman. He doesn't see me as an alien, the eternal 'other'. Nor does he try to force me to assimilate. I can be myself around him. The real me. I am Aasiya Rahman, a young Somali-American woman from Minneapolis living in Ottawa. And I just want to live my life, end of story.

Evan was raised in a religious household, and his parents endured their fair share of problems as an interracial couple in Montreal, a racially diverse yet segregated metropolis. Yeah, he didn't have it easy, so he learned to keep an open mind about people. That's what I love about him. The guy has a heart as big as the Canadian sky....and a cute ass. One that I love to touch every chance I get. We haven't had sex yet, but when the time comes, I'm sure it's going to be amazing. Evan is wonderfully patient, and that's fine by me.

We walk through the halls of Carleton together, hand in hand. In the eyes of the Canadian students, Evan and I just another black couple walking through campus. When the Somali students, especially Somali girls, see us they tend to stare. Their eyes flit from Evan to me, taking in my Somali features and western-style clothes, usually consisting of tight T-shirts and short skirts, and Evan's biracial good looks, which mark him as alien, but their eyes longer on the silver crucifix hanging around his neck. Yes, I'm a Somali gal and my boyfriend is from another culture, and another faith. Judge me all you want. I don't answer to you.

We're in 2014, isn't it time that Muslim women started thinking and doing for themselves? I mean, the men of our faith have been dating and marrying girls from other faiths and cultures for millennia. Yet they frown if a Muslim sister even talks aloud about exploring her options. Such a double standard, don't you think? Many a Somali sister at school has pulled me aside and urged me to leave Evan since he's not 'one of our kind', and I've told them to go stuff themselves. I like Evan, and he's oh so good to me. When he pulls me into those strong arms of his and kisses me, I feel like dying of happiness. That's why I'm with him. We're happy together, you see. Does anything else really matter? None of us know the future or what it will bring. Why not enjoy today?

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